Possession Arc: Book IV: Witness the Phoenix
by The Manwell
Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades’ solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he’d imagined. Sequel to Relinquish the Soul. Language, angst, sensuality, shounen ai. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**_Witness the Phoenix_** by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- One -**

**The Acting Director** of the United Earth Sphere Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division has never really cared for Mondays." To Une, it always seems as if the brief respite of the weekend is just long enough to recover from the headaches of the week before, but just short enough to prevent her from accomplishing anything significant or satisfying. That might be because she rarely indulges in a full 48-hour holiday. Or any holiday at all. And she has decided that her dislike of Mondays is not because she must drag herself back to work after a comfortable but too-short respite. She dislikes Mondays because they are intrinsically dislikeable.

Today has yet to prove itself to be an exception.

The report on her desk is not an enjoyable read. All one hundred and forty-two pages of it detail all of the ways in which Preventer forensics experts are sure the Zanoah Base did _not_ explode. She'd been warned that the team's findings were inconclusive. But the actual reading of the report itself is an exercise in frustration.

Nearly as frustrating as the reports she'd received on a former war outpost maintained by the Bedouin in the Arabian Desert. All within had been found dead. All had died at roughly the same time. All had died from apparently the same cause. What that cause might be is entirely unknown.

Two unexplainable events of mass death.

They may or may not be connected, but she is very doubtful that they are merely timely coincidences.

She needs more information.

Information that Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy could quite possibly provide.

If they had indeed survived the explosion at Zanoah which, given what little evidence that _does_ exist, is past the realm of Unlikely and tiptoeing across the border of Impossible.

And it seems she'd lost an agent right around that same time.

Chang Wufei has not reported for duty since the day before the inexplicable explosion at Zanoah. She can only speculate on his degree of investigation. Or involvement.

The black boxes Preventer agents had recovered at Zanoah had given no indication that Chang has infiltrated the base. It had only revealed the presence of Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, and Trowa Barton as they'd performed a security check of the facility. Dramatic though it had been to witness, the recordings had given no further clues as to the cause of the explosion. Although forensics had isolated the source of the blast, none of the surveillance equipment had been operating in that particular room at the time. An oversight, perhaps? But why such an obvious one when the Zanoah staff had known in advance that they could expect a security audit? Une reaffirms her conclusion: if it had been an oversight, it had been a deliberate one. What had happened in that room? And who had wanted to keep it a secret? She doubts that it was the work of Maxwell and his partners. Had another party been involved with the incident, or does the blame truly lie with the agents manning Zanoah?

So many questions.

Questions that Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and Heero Yuy could likely answer.

But their bodies, as well as the bodies of many others, had never been recovered. In a blast of that magnitude, forensics had reported, it is highly unlikely that anyone within ten meters of the immediate explosion or present in the flame-channeling corridors would have left any identifiable remains. The medical examiner had authorized their death certificates only last week.

Which had brought her back to Special Agent Chang Wufei.

It had saddened her to issue the warrant for his detainment, but her regret had been far outweighed by frustration. Nearly two months have passed since the disaster at Zanoah, and she is no closer to finishing her report on it than she had been the day after it had occurred.

The only lead she has is a series of satellite photographs capturing the burned-out remains of what had been identified as Chang Wufei's personal vehicle. The lack of any human remains present at the scene seemed to indicate that no one had been inside the car when it had exploded. But as to who had driven it out into the desert, forensics has been unable to find any evidence amongst the puckered glass, buckled metal, and gutted interior. Although they had reluctantly concluded that the same type of mysterious explosives that had destroyed the car had also been used at Zanoah.

What had happened that day? Who had orchestrated the explosions? And _what_, in the name of God, had they used? Had Chang witnessed any of this? Had he been involved? Is he still alive? In hiding, a prisoner of some unknown enemy, or willingly conspiring to bring about another massacre?

However, since Chang Wufei is not present and able to deliver an account of his actions, she taps out an internal extension on her vidphone.

"Digital Forensics, what can I do for you, ma'am?"

Une asks her questions regarding the status of the Bedouin's computer database. Progress is still slow. Whoever had jammed the system had been quite adamant about making the information inaccessible. She tells the agent to keep working.

She disconnects the line and rubs her forehead.

Acting Director Une really, _really_ hates Mondays.

And the small but utterly distinctive sound of a NeoGlock's safety being disengaged is simply the exclamation point on the end of her anti-Monday credo.

She is startled, too startled to even think to twitch. Her thoughts swirl with confusion. All of the NeoGlocks had been destroyed. As had all other conventional bullet-armed weapons. It is conceivable that even with the United Earth Sphere Disarmament, the Preventers had missed a few. But it is not conceivable that someone could have transported it into her private office completely undetected.

She struggles against reaching for the gun she knows she no longer wears. Une _does_ know that the intruder won't shoot until he is sure he has her complete attention. But she cannot _not_ notice him indefinitely.

And she's never been a coward.

It's hard to face, but the knowledge is blatantly evident: she won't be able to think her way out of this one. And she probably won't be able to talk her way out, either. But it's her best shot.

Still, what a way to go... and on a Monday of all days.

Surely, this is atonement.

Acting Director Une says, "You've got my attention."

"I know."

That voice...

Her head snaps up and she finds herself numbly absorbing the leather-and-jean clad form of Duo Maxwell. The NeoGlock held so easily in his grasp is a secondary detail.

She hears herself admit disbelievingly, "I've just read your death certificate..."

"I know that, too."

It must be the arrogance in his voice that coaxes one of her eyebrows into a skeptical arch. "You're well-informed."

"From where I stand, there's not much I can't know."

Her eyes narrow with speculation. "Then you should be able to answer a few questions for me, Mr. Maxwell."

"I could, but I won't."

She thinks she almost hears the click of the first bullet chambering. But of course, it already has been. Duo Maxwell would not have waited until now to finish that little chore.

She waits. This is Duo Maxwell's show. He'll fire when he's good and ready. But as the seconds roar by, her awareness of the office becomes more acute. The window is still locked. The door still firmly shut.

The door...

There'd been no soft scrape of wood against carpet preceding her visitor's entrance. No shift in air pressure.

But, how could that be possible?

In the swirling silence, she feels compelled to wonder aloud: "How _did_ you get into my office, Mr. Maxwell?"

And finally, he smiles.

It is, without a doubt, the coldest smile she has ever seen.

And she knows: Duo Maxwell has broken.

He draws a slight breath.

He sights.

_"Dreamwalker!"_

At the sound of a new voice, Une manages to find her lost reflexes, diving behind her massive desk and its mountain of reports. In the same instant, the gun discharges with an eardrum-bursting explosion. Papers erupt. Plaster dust snows.

"Do _not_ follow through with this!"

There is no reply.

There is only silence.

Une remains where she is and waits for her assistant to collect some back-up before barging in. From beneath her desk, she sees no foreign shoes crushing the bulk-ordered carpet. She knows she is alone.

With a sigh, she sits up and leans against her desk. She closes her eyes. She figures she only has about ten seconds to figure out how she's going to explain this.

Duo Maxwell – a dead man – in her office with an outlawed firearm.

And the second man... A man whose voice she knows very, very well...

A man she could not have possibly heard.

A man who, as far as she knows, is even more dead than Duo Maxwell.

. . .

**"Come in."**

"I'm sorry, sir."

"For what are you offering an apology, Walker?"

"This morning. Une's office. Maxwell."

"Ah, succinctly put. And why is it you feel compelled to apologize for the Dreamwalker's rash actions?"

"I failed the assignment. I'm sorry."

"Walker..."

"I was unable to destroy all of Zanoah's digital recorders. Nor have I been able to decode the Bedouin's encrypted files..."

"Walker..."

"I will accept the consequences of my incompetence."

"Walker, be calm. I will not reprimand you for failing to complete nearly impossible tasks. The information from Zanoah is now in the hands of the Preventers. That cannot be helped. We must look forward, not back. There is a solution."

"Is there?"

"Do not sound so doubtful of me, Walker. This day was destined to come."

"What will we do?"

"You shall return to your post at the Preventers. Your position there may yet be invaluable. And, of course, Une must be addressed; I will arrange for that."

"And Maxwell?"

"I am handling that matter personally. Do not concern yourself with it."

"I regret that I have not been of more assistance to you."

"You have always provided a wealth of assistance to me, Walker."

"If you say it, then it must be true, sir."

"It is true, my friend. It is true."

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**_Witness the Phoenix_** by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Two -**

_**I should have**__ deleted that damned assignment the moment I saw it!_

A fierce, empty silence – a void – where a young man's thoughts would have echoed.

_The rage... yes, Heero's rage is very nice. Hot and satisfying. Mmm... And Trowa, his despondency is so rich. Soul deep. Yes, yes, give me a taste of your soul..._

_God damn it, Duo. Why did I let you feed me that bullshit about you feeling fine? You were _not_ fine!_

Nothingness.

_And Wufei, so worried for them, for me. He loves me. I can feel it and I like it. Give me more, more, I'll take it all, all, all..._

_Damn you to hell Duo Maxwell! I need you here, you self-sacrificing moron!_

Aching, icy numbness.

_Wufei is mine, is mine, is mine. And soon Trowa... yes, soon... Then Heero will fall... fall..._

Wufei opens his eyes and lets out a long breath. He surveys the room he had chosen several weeks ago for the purpose of mediation. Despite the ability of its restful colors and unadorned walls to soothe his mind, he has yet to actually manage a successful meditation in it. And this morning, once again the thoughts of the others infringe on his quest to reach past his own awareness to the place where Duo might sense him, might contact him. In the past five weeks he has heard nothing from Duo. And far too much from the others.

Heero's enduring, self-directed rage.

Trowa's echoingly empty withdrawal.

And Quatre...

Wufei sighs. He has no doubt that Quatre cares for all of them. He has no doubt that Quatre can control the vampirism. But it is a very, very fine line that the young man treads. He cannot suppress the hunger, deny it, or fight it. He must allow it to view the others as prey. He must allow it to take what it wants. It is up to Quatre to make sure it takes only what has been freely offered or carelessly cast off.

Wufei admits it is unnerving living with someone who could consume your very soul should Quatre stumble along that vanishingly thin path he has balanced himself upon. Although Wufei is afraid for his own sake, he is even more fearful for Quatre's. If the young man ever slips and takes what is not his, Quatre's own sense of failure and guilt will leave only two paths open to him: he will either succumb completely to the vampire or take his own life. If Wufei knows anything about Quatre at all, it is that he would never be able to consciously live with the knowledge that he had consumed a human soul...

"You're worrying about me again."

Wufei doesn't turn around. He knows Quatre is leaning in the doorway, a vision in khaki slacks, white T-shirt, and unbuttoned oxford dress shirt, with his sunglass-tangled blond hair and pale, bare feet. Yes, this Quatre is exponentially sexier than Wufei's old comrade – quite capable of tempting a logical mind into the forfeiture of one's own soul – and Quatre is _well_ aware of this. Truly a dangerous combination.

Wufei replies, "With good reason, Winner."

"So you insist." Quatre pauses and Wufei can feel those lightning-blue eyes mapping his kneeling form from behind. "You tried to meditate again. Without help."

The empath's displeasure vibrates through the air and Wufei snaps, "Despite your delusions to the contrary, meditation is _not_ a team sport."

"No," Quatre drawls suggestively. "But I know another game we can play, just the two of us, and I guarantee you'll reach nirvana."

Wufei snorts with a surprised bubble of laughter. "If you want to work off your excess energy, maybe you should get back to your crocheting."

Quatre chuckles. And then he steps into the room.

Wufei is instantly tense.

"Relax, I won't..."

There exists such a wide range of actions of which Quatre is capable, that he doesn't bother to list them or offer up an example. However, that is not what concerns Wufei. With every encounter, he feels his objectivity slipping just a little more. With Heero and Trowa lost to him in worlds of their own making and Duo missing, he has nothing to anchor himself to except the very person who could take him, own him, destroy him.

Quatre's hands find his shoulders and move down to the curve of his upper arms. "Relax. I'm going to help you find Duo."

"While I appreciate the sentiment behind your offer to augment my energies with your own, I do not think you should be here."

"And I don't think it's safe for you to try to contact Duo without some kind of backup. You're tired. And there's no telling what state Duo may be in." Before Wufei can use his next breath to articulate yet another argument, Quatre continues, "Rashid and the others are busy elsewhere – at my request – not being implicated in helping us disappear. Heero still wants to see both of our heads mounted on pikes and Trowa can barely take care of himself. Who else in this vast sea of humanity would you rather help you?"

"You can't get past the hunger," Wufei reminds him.

"Yes, I can. I have before, and I will now. We're going to do this together, just like we promised we would. It's just you and me and we're going to find him. So close your eyes, Wufei, close your eyes..."

Reluctantly, Wufei does.

As the darkness of his own body descends upon him he hears it: the muffled percussion of a human heart.

He sees it: the fluid, endless dance of smoky fog.

And then it happens: the flash of light as his senses ascend to the level of awareness which has summoned him.

. . .

**Heero Yuy watches.**

He leans against the wall directly opposite the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and endures. He watches arms settle around weary shoulders. He hears the sigh of exhaustion. He sees the interplay between two people who know they are part of each other's destiny.

He tightens his arms even further over his chest. His unseen hand fists against his ribcage. The fingers of the other gouge into his clothed bicep.

He watches and he tries not to remember.

But his arms ache.

Barely breathing in anticipation, eyes narrowed with cynicism, he endures what will most likely be yet another of Wufei's ineffectual attempts at mediation.

And at length, it seems as if, maybe... this time... Chang may have...

Wufei slumps forward on a long, defeated sigh. "I'm sorry, Quatre. I cannot."

Even before the utterance has been said, Heero's faint hope is ruthlessly crushed. His snort is soft and cynical.

In the mediation room, Quatre pauses briefly in the act of pulling his exhausted friend to his unsteady feet. Wufei does not even have enough energy to start. It is to him that Heero directs his brutal words.

"You're a fool, Chang."

Once, Wufei might have glowered at the vitriol. Now he only wearily acknowledges, "Thank you for that astute observation, Yuy. Your presence here is clearly making all the difference."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by this scene. I warned you about him."

Wufei leans heavily against Quatre, closes his eyes briefly in a likely attempt to gather his own strength.

Quatre answers Heero's challenge. In a cold voice, he replies, "Yes, you did warn him. Do you feel vindicated now?"

"You sonuvabitch... You think I _wanted_ you to do this to him?"

"You think I give a damn about what you want?" Quatre snaps.

"No, I'm not the one who's deluded himself."

Temper snapping, Quatre turns the full force of his gaze upon the figure leaning tense and angry in the hallway. "Why do you insist on poking the lion with sticks, Yuy? Even you are not that foolish. Even you know that eventually the beast will turn and attack."

And, in a flash of insight, Quatre persists, "Unless, of course, that is what you want." Quatre does not have to elucidate precisely what would happen, should he finally lash out. Heero is fully aware that he is playing with an eternity of oblivion. He knows and he does not care.

Perhaps sensing this, Quatre's ire deflates. Saddened, disappointed, he says, "Is this the cowardly way in which you would use me? Is this the end Duo would have wanted for you?"

A long pause growls between them.

In a voice weighed and rusty with rage, Heero returns, "Never say his name again, you parasite. You are not worthy to even think of him."

Quatre's rage returns with full fury. "Neither are self-pitying trolls like you! You cannot change what has happened: neither your mistakes nor his! It. Has. Happened! What are you going to do about it, Yuy?"

Heero glances meaningfully in Wufei's direction. The young man looks asleep on his feet. And right after allowing Quatre to "assist" him with his meditation. Heero thinks: _Not _a coincidence. He says flatly, "I think _you_'ve done enough for _all_ of us, Winner."

Quatre bares his teeth in a seething grin. Heero hears him inhale sharply with the intent to speak.

"Sofa," a third voice croaks.

Instantly, the empath's rage dissipates. "I apologize, Wufei."

A soft grunt acknowledges Quatre's words.

Heero says nothing. He watches with narrowed eyes as Quatre guides Wufei from the room and turns down the hall to negotiate the brief distance to the living room. Heero remains in the hall. From his vantage point, he can see Wufei slump down among the once-soft cushions.

Quatre speaks to someone seated at the window. "You don't mind if I turn down the radio, do you Trowa?"

As expected, there is no reply. Trowa continues staring out the window.

Heero closes his eyes and quietly but soundly bangs his head against the wall. God, he hates this place. These useless people. Supposedly, Duo is out there, somewhere. Supposedly, Quatre had helped Wufei save his life. Supposedly, he will return when he has recovered from enduring the Owning. Supposedly, they are waiting for a sign.

Waiting.

Possibly waiting to learn that Duo is dead. Possibly waiting to learn that Quatre had betrayed them. Possibly waiting for the vampire to consume their souls.

It all boils down to waiting.

And that stew is a bitter one, indeed.

Just as the radio volume warbles, indicating the touch of a hand, a key phrase interrupts the vampire's intention to quiet the faceless, ever-present voice.

"...and this just in: an attack was made on Preventer Headquarters this morning. At approximately 10:30 a.m., a gunshot was heard echoing from inside the office of Acting Director Une. The director is unhurt and the identity of the assailant has not been released. Sources report that it is still too early to say what motivated the strike and an investigation is underway to identify the individuals responsible for this attack. Preventer Security has declined to comment regarding the methods the assailant used to gain access to the heavily-guarded administrative offices but offer their assurances that they are investigating the possible origin of the gun used in the attack. As you know, all firearms were destroyed three years ago following..."

Heero lifts his head from the wall and regards the satellite reception unit. He tries not to think about the investigation at Preventer HQ. He tries not to assemble the list of priorities, possible evidence, potential vulnerabilities. That is not his job anymore. His job now is... waiting.

"There is no bullet."

Heero turns his gaze to the living room, somewhat startled at the strange declaration.

Quatre frowns. "What did you say, Wufei?"

On the sofa, Wufei frowns. "I'm... not sure. What did you hear me say?"

Heero can see from the unsettled look on Wufei's face that he had not even realized that the words had come from his own mouth.

_There is no bullet._

The news announcer is still speculating on the attack on Une. Heero now joins in with his own unanswered questions: And who would attack Une? Who would have motive? Who would have the capability? And could any of this possibly be related to a seemingly failed meditation attempt?

_There is no bullet._

A gunshot. An assassin. A target that is – quite possibly – in the position to learn a great deal about some very unusual circumstances and events.

Heero considers.

He evaluates.

He decides.

Voice too soft for the others to hear, he says, "You want to know what I'm going to do, Quatre?"

Heero Yuy steps quietly away from the gathering in the living room and retreats down the hall. "Now it's your turn to wait... and see."

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

_**Witness the Phoenix**_ by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai (PG-13)

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Three -**

**"What do you mean** you can't find a bullet?" Acting Director Une demands in a low, dangerous tone. "These files didn't just break Olympic high-jump records for the hell of it!"

The agent before her replies, unperturbed, "I did not say there hadn't been a gunshot, ma'am. We have three witnesses who heard it as well as security recordings from the office lobby. I can see the impact point in the wall behind you where it entered. However, we cannot locate the bullet itself. Unless you yourself have already confiscated it, it simply isn't here, ma'am."

Four little words: it simply isn't here.

Only four little words and yet it deepens the mystery by fathoms.

The profound unknown surrounding her dismantles her irritation, leaving her deflated and exhausted.

"I understand, agent," she replies with a modicum of professionalism.

Professionalism. It's a word she is beginning to hate. Why had she accepted this thankless, _passionless_ position in the first place? To maintain the peace? To protect the innocent? How can she accomplish this when this morning's events have clearly shown that she cannot address these seemingly simple directives within the walls of her own office?

Perhaps it's time to consider a career change. Zoo-keeping is looking more and more relaxing all the time; teeth and claws don't usually pass through walls and security checkpoints.

As tempted as she is to draft her resignation letter, she knows she won't. She's never walked away from a mystery, a challenge, or a threat. And now she faces all three.

Perhaps it's time to pay a visit to the Preventer Digital Forensics Division. There's nothing like a superior officer leaning over one's shoulder to inspire results.

. . .

**Nothing happens** in Trowa's world of ice. And that is how he prefers it.

Nothingness is a good place to be when what crouches in the shadows of memory waits to consume you.

But nothingness is not safe. It is not infinite.

Deep within the territory of his mind, a jungle warfare sparks and sizzles. The ambush is always sudden and ruthless, melting back into the darkness just before he can combat it.

_"Duo? What are you doing here?"_

_"Hey, Tro! Nice to see you, too, dude! I'm just fine; thanks for asking! The flight was great and I saved you some peanuts!" _

Nothingness. Nothingness is good. The cold helps. Here, by the window, he can almost feel the chill of the snow directly on his skin. Ice is good. Numb is good. Here he can pretend that he has no history, that he exists only in each moment has it happens, that it is impossible for him to have made mistakes in a past that never existed.

_"Are you going to tell us what's wrong?"_

_"There's nothing wrong, Tro. In fact, everything is perfect."_

Perfection: darkness, ignorance, peace. In the silence, he hears nothing. Remembers nothing. Knows nothing. He breathes. Sometimes he wonders why he bothers to do even that. He does not need the air. He needs the numbness.

_"I never thought I'd say this, but you guys were right. We really are making this work."_

_"You know us too well to doubt us, Duo."_

Doubt. He ignores it. Doubt leads to thought. Thought invites memories. Memories... are unbearable.

_"Have I told you guys yet today that I couldn't live withoutcha?"_

Live. Life. Living. Is that necessary? Is it desirable?

_"I'll take you both out for ice cream when we win this one."_

_"Never been in Little League before..."_

League. Team. Partners. He does not want to understand these words. He does not want to remember their meanings. He wants to know only the nothingness. Only the chill, the silence, the darkness.

He leans his forehead against the frozen window pane. He closes his eyes. He welcomes the cold. With every breath, he imagines the fire dimming, dimming, dying into nothing.

Nothing.

"I'm going to find him, Trowa."

A voice – a voice he knows – whispers to him in the darkness.

"We're going to be together again."

_Together..._

"I need your help, Trowa."

_Together_..._ Duo_...

"I have a job for you, so listen..."

_Listen_..._ I'm listening_..._ I'm listening for the sound of Duo's footsteps, for his laughter, for his voice. Listening_..._ For Duo, I'll listen. Listen._

"Trowa? Can I count on you?"

For a long moment, Trowa does not move, does not think, does not breathe.

He blinks and this time, his eyes focus. He sits up. He turns toward the figure sharing the window seat with him and, in a voice hoarse from disuse, says, "Yes, you can count on me."

. . .

**"You lied **to me."

"Yes, I did."

"Can I count on the fact that that won't be the last time you jerk my chain for your own selfish reasons?"

"You do not wish to know the reason for my falsehood?"

"I already know why people lie."

"Yes, I can see that. What you want to know is if I also have the propensity for giving you a forthright reply."

"And you just gave me my answer, buddy."

"But you do have other questions, do you not?"

"I'll keep my questions to myself, thanks. What I'd like to know is why you got in my way."

"Do not invent obstacles in your path."

"Is that supposed to be advice?"

"It is my reason for lying to you."

"That's 100 crap-ola, man. If you had anticipated my reaction to learning about Une's investigation, and if you had intended to stop me from killing her, then why did you discuss the threat she poses in front of me?"

"Can you think of no reason for why I would do that?"

"I can think of several twisted leaps of logic, but nothing that makes sense, no."

"But you have already seen that it does. Your resistance to my will is indeed formidable. You have read my motivations quite clearly. And now I shall anticipate your counter-move."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that, pal."

"Ah, but, Dreamwalker, of the two of us, I am not the one who needs it."

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

**_Witness the Phoenix_** by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai (PG-13)

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Four -**

**It's amazing** how much money Acting Director Une has authorized for the salaries of people whose sole task is to tell her what green, blue, and red lines on obscure charts are meant to represent.

Feeling more obtuse than she'd care to verbally admit, Une glares at the junior officer spouting as many polysyllabic words as he can muster in order to "explain" the data on his computer screen. All of which essentially means that no further progress has been made.

"Agent," Une barks, interjecting into his continued, pseudo-elucidation. "You are not paid to think up clever ways to phrase excuses. Your task is to decode this data. Can you do that or shall I transfer you to another section? Public Relations is constantly submitting requests for more agents to do elementary school assembly presentations."

The threat does wonders.

"Ma'am! I'll have something for you within twenty-four hours."

"See that you do, Agent Walker. See that you do."

. . .

**Wufei takes in** the conspicuous black duffel bag in the back seat of the SUV and the figure leaning towards the driver's seat through the vehicle's open door and snaps, "Going somewhere, Yuy?"

Heero Yuy does not seem particularly surprised by this interruption. He says, "What does it look like to you, Chang?"

"We agreed that all of us would stay together until Duo contacted one of us."

"And he has."

Wufei blinks. His voice is cautious when he speaks: "You know where he is?"

"Not at the moment. That's why you're coming with me."

"..._now?_"

"No," Heero replies coolly. "Two minutes from now, which would make it –" Heero consults his wrist watch. "– 04:14."

"That sounds suspiciously like an order, Yuy."

"It is. Get in the car, Chang."

Wufei scowls. "You are not my mission commander," he states flatly, and turns abruptly to exit the garage...

And finds Heero Yuy standing directly in his path.

Wufei does not betray his surprise with a start, but his brain sort of hiccups as he tries to comprehend that Heero had been standing behind him, on the other side of the SUV, not one second earlier.

"Get in the car," Heero directs.

Wufei stares hard at this man before him. As much as he'd like to indulge in a show of temper, he wisely resists the inclination. "If you expect me to come with you, then I'm entitled to know exactly what your plans are before I consent to take part."

"A waste of time."

"Then give me one good reason why I should go along with this!" he hisses.

"Do you think Quatre can defend himself against a firestarter?" Heero wonders aloud.

Once again, Wufei's brain performs the mental equivalent of a stumble. The threat is there, hanging between them and Wufei suddenly wants very, very badly to be on the other side of the door behind Heero. "You dare to threaten –"

"I dare to do what I must to get Duo back!" Heero's shout echoes in the garage, rolling around the exposed rafters and bouncing off of the concrete floor. "Trowa's already in position and –" Heero taps the small comm. piece nestled in his left ear. "– waiting for my signal."

Wufei fumes.

Heero continues, "Everything is starting to come together for me, Wufei," he says quietly. "And this is my chance to find Duo. For this goal, and _only_ this goal, Trowa has pulled himself together. He's going to look after Quatre for you while you're working with me on this. How he does that will depend entirely on you. He's looking forward to seeing Duo again; you're not going to disappoint him, are you?"

Incensed, Wufei growls, "How can I make a decision, either way, with nothing to base it on but a pie-in-the-sky objective and underhanded threats?"

"The plan is for you not to make a decision. The plan is for you to sit your ass down behind the steering wheel and drive until I tell you to stop."

Wufei thinks about punching Heero Yuy in the jaw. He thinks about challenging the threat of Trowa attacking Quatre. He thinks about what Heero Yuy has become, what his abilities, in total, might be. He thinks Heero will be disinclined to answer Wufei's questions about his extraordinary abilities. He thinks that – in hand-to-hand combat – he is now no match for Heero Yuy, if he had ever been. He thinks the prudent thing at this juncture, is to get in the car.

He says, "I highly doubt, after this stunt, that there is anything you can say to win my sympathetic cooperation, Yuy."

Sensing Wufei's disgruntled compliance, Heero says, "Sympathy is unnecessary. Your cooperation is all I need, Chang. And I will get it. One way or another."

Yes, Wufei can see that Heero isn't interested in sympathy. The situation has degraded far beyond that. He's interested in results, and for weeks, Wufei has not produced them. That, in and of itself, is confusing to former Preventer Agent Chang. Why had his meditation attempts been so ineffective? What mechanism had allowed Heero's tolerance to unravel so dramatically?

Wufei doesn't have answers for any of these questions. And no protests Heero will listen to.

Smarting in the wake of those apathetic directives, Wufei strides over to the driver's side of the car, climbs in, and slams the door shut behind him.

. . .

**"Quatre."**

Just the sound of his voice, softly spoken, wakes him. He turns toward the door and sees...

"Trowa?" For a moment, he's almost painfully disoriented. Seeing Trowa standing on the threshold to his room, hearing him speak...

Surprise sparks adrenalin and rockets him the rest of the way into wakefulness.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Quatre asks, "What's happened?" cutting directly to the source of Trowa's unexpected loquacity. Obviously, _something_ must have initiated Trowa's sudden renewed participation in socializing. The man had been practically catatonic for weeks.

But now, Trowa leans in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and watches Quatre pull on the nearest pair of pants. "Heero and Wufei left."

"Left!?" Quatre's eyes narrow. "Clarify that."

Trowa obliges, "Heero and Wufei are not in the house. The SUV is gone."

"Shit," Quatre mutters, wrenching his belt through the buckle. "Where did they go?"

Trowa lifts one shoulder in a shrug of ignorance.

"And why now?"

That, perhaps, is the most important question. Quatre reaches for his boots and tries to remember the last time he saw Heero and Wufei. Wufei he'd seen last night. He'd combed the man's hair out of his eyes just outside Wufei's bedroom door. In this house of heartache, that has been the most intimate gesture they've dared. He glances at the clock. 5:08 a.m. That's not enough time for Wufei to put together a disappearing act. But Heero...

He'd seen Heero yesterday morning. They'd argued in the hall just after Wufei's attempt at meditating. Then Quatre had taken Wufei into the living room. Presumably, Heero had returned to his room. But then there'd been the news announcement of the attack on Une... and Wufei's odd statement. What if Heero hadn't returned to his room immediately following their encounter? What if he'd lingered in the hallway?

For the first time, Quatre really thinks about the words Wufei had uttered.

_There is no bullet._

Odd words. Presumably related to the attack on Une. If she'd been shot at, and there hadn't been a bullet... But what does that _mean_?

"Trowa, help me out here," Quatre says. "Wufei tried to contact Duo yesterday morning, but couldn't. Then there was that announcement on the news about Une being attacked in her office. _Possibly_ in response to this, Wufei says, 'There is no bullet.' Then Heero disappears into his room for the rest of the day. Does any of that fit together?"

Trowa is silent for a long moment. Then he leans away from the doorjamb and says, "I'll make some coffee."

Quatre snorts and slouches forward on the edge of the bed. He braces his elbows on his thighs, draping his hands in the space between. He looks down at his boots, which he'd automatically put on a laced up. He hopes he'd remembered to put on socks.

Alone now, he decides to consider the situation from another angle. What kind of weapon could be used in an attack on one person in a high security building? The answer to that being: not very damn many. Something that could be brought in without setting off alarms. A piece of rope or plastic to be used as a garrote, maybe... But then why had Wufei said that there hadn't been a bullet? Of course there hadn't. No one makes or uses bullets anymore. To get a hold of one _and _bring it into the Preventer HQ administrative offices you'd have to –

Quatre's breath tangles suddenly in his throat.

You'd have to make one _inside_ the target zone.

But that would be impossible, unless...

"You were a dreamwalker..."

Quatre surges to his feet and practically runs into the kitchen. He sees Trowa reaching for two steel coffee cups and blurts, "Why would Duo try to kill Director Une?"

Trowa, seemingly unsurprised by this abrupt question, replies, "Bedouin. Zanoah."

"Yes, those events would have been under Preventer jurisdiction. But the Maguanacs jammed the Bedouin's computers. And nothing conclusive can be proven from Zanoah's security data recorders. Une most likely thinks the three of you died in that explosion. So, why would Duo target Une?"

Quatre decides against sitting in one of the chairs scattered around the table and sits directly on the table itself, swinging his feet up onto the seat of the chair. Trowa hands him a cup of coffee and says, "To get our attention?"

"And hers as well, I'm sure."

Trowa, his own steaming cup of instant caffeine in hand, leans against the table beside him. "If Une likes having all of her questions answered..."

Quatre sips thoughtfully. "Then she might go digging around in something best left alone."

Like the Bedouin's database of doom. Which would expose – at the very least – himself and Duo.

Quatre considers this new possibility, and determines that Heero's absence the day before must indicate time spent investigating not only the attack on Une, but also her role in the Bedouin and Zanoah investigations. He also realizes that last night, Wufei had _not _been planning on accompanying Heero on this task. And something must have stopped him from informing or inviting Quatre. For a moment, he considers the issue to be a lack of trust or confidence in Quatre's abilities to control his vampirism. But even then, Wufei would not have said _nothing_. He would have explained exactly why Quatre had been ill-suited to accompany them. Some other explanation is called for...

Trowa, quite possibly sensing Quatre's increasing determination, says indifferently, "Are we going hunting?"

Quatre looks up sharply at that last word.

_Hunting_...

Suddenly, he feels the beast stirring within him. He can feel it coiled deep in his chest. If he can keep it there...

A small but sharp, predatory smile curves his mouth. Quatre says, "I suppose some questions really ought to be asked in person, shouldn't they?"

. . .

**"How did you** find me?"

"You know, I'm hearing the words, but I'm just not feeling the emotion, man. So, I guess I can assume you're not surprised to see me 'cause you're plugged into the Big Guy's Network of Doom."

"It's hardly that. And he's hardly God."

"Oh, really? I said that very thing to him. Do you wanna know what his reply was?"

"By all means, indulge me in an approximation of his response. For old times' sake."

"He said, 'Just because you do not know who God is, do not make the mistake of assuming who God is not.'"

"Has he truly become that pompous?"

"You shoulda seen it for yourself, pal. He could take that act on the road."

"Indeed."

"Alrighty, enough with the chit-chat. You already know why I'm here."

"Yes."

"And you've already made your decision."

"Of course."

"So... you gonna stick your neck out for me?"

"No."

"Ah. That's it, huh? You won't do it and there's nothing I can say to convince you otherwise."

"You need to listen more closely. I said I wouldn't do it for _you_."

"I see..."

"No, I don't think you do. But my motivations will remain my own."

"Whatever, man. I just wanna hear you say the words. You'll do it?"

"Yes, Pilot 02. But I will do it for _her_."

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

**_Witness the Phoenix_** by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai (PG-13)

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Five -**

**Via the small comm. piece** nestled in his ear, Heero listens as Trowa masterfully herds Quatre, the final player, into place. He smirks at the use of the word "hunting" to call forth the young man's predatory instincts. The vampire has been awakened.

Heero does not bother to spare Wufei a glance. The man is still furious with Heero's methods of manipulation. But it had been necessary. It had all been necessary. Now that the troops have been organized and orders given, everything will go according to plan.

The others have often underestimated Heero's ability to strategize. It is a mistake they should not have made. For when it comes to crafting and implementing a plan, Heero Yuy is as ruthlessly opportunistic as they come.

The time for waiting is over.

Questions have been asked that now will be answered.

Punishments will be dealt to all who have evaded them.

But, most importantly, the crimes which have been sanctioned by the many will now be illuminated by the few.

These are his tasks.

And Heero Yuy is not prone to failure.

"Just where the hell are we going, Yuy?" Wufei demands, sharply.

Heero can imagine how his pride must be stinging him. Like a school of jellyfish.

"That is, if I'm allowed to ask," Chang snarks.

Heero almost smiles. "Preventer Headquarters."

Wufei blinks. Heero thinks he can hear the man's heart skip a beat. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. And then he predicts darkly, "You want to pay Une a visit."

Heero merely shrugs. He is not about to divulge the full and complete details of his plan nor confess to the truth he has come to suspect. He removes his laptop from the duffel bag in the back seat and replies. "Just drive, Chang."

Scowl firmly in place, the former Preventer agent does just that, unaware of the abilities within Heero that have recently been reawakened, ignorant of the purpose for which Heero has been created, uninformed of the true nature of this mission and the price it will require.

From all of them.

. . .

**They had been unable** to replace Wufei's shiny, silver sports car with a vehicle of equivalent caliber. Briefly, Quatre mourns the loss of that sleek and speedy horsepower. He recalls not just a few... _interesting_ memories associated with the interior of that machine. Quite different from the funky atmosphere of oil, dust, and ancient flannel blankets that have come to define the interior of this old farm truck. But he has to admit, they're making good time.

From behind the steering wheel, Trowa says, "We still on-course?"

"Same heading, no deviation," Quatre confirms and allows himself to become preoccupied with slowing turning the issue of Wufei's abrupt departure over in his mind. _Why_ had he left without telling Quatre?

Well, Quatre's instinctive reply to that is: Wufei wouldn't do that. The two of them had promised to deal with the situation created in the wake of Duo's disappearance _together._

But Wufei had left. And he hadn't told Quatre. So, assuming his trust in Wufei has not been misplaced, Wufei had not _been able to_ tell him.

Quatre nurses that thought for a moment. Then turns his complete, objective attention onto the implications: What could have dissuaded or prevented Wufei from communicating this drastic change of plan?

It's not a long list of possibilities. And one in particular snags Quatre's attention. In fact, that particular possibility has green eyes and is driving a cantankerous, ancient, stick-shift farm truck towards a glowing horizon still sparkling with city lights.

And Quatre wonders: If it were down to Trowa and I...?

_Take!_

Quatre closes his eyes as the need within him swells.

_I want what is __**mine**__!_

"And you'll have it," Quatre promises it silently.

_Yes, soon! I can feel the tension_..._ the prey is near_..._**Want!**_

"Yes, soon," Quatre assuages it. "We must be skillful. We must be cautious."

_I can feel the energy_..._ We shall conquer_..._ We shall __**consume**_**...**_**! **_

The creature within him swirls in a powerfully revolving frenzy through his body, testing Quatre's muscles and skin, feeling for weaknesses and leaving trails of adrenalin in its wake.

Quatre glances at Trowa once more and knows that his greatest threat is here, beside him. His ally. His _friend._

He says, "Catching up isn't going to do us any good. We have to head them off."

Trowa nods.

Quatre says no more than that. He feels the truck's momentum slow as Trowa applies the brake. And with a gentle motion of his hand, the firestarter turns on the truck's rattling turn signal and steers off of the highway and onto a forgotten, gravel path.

. . .

**"Your enterprise** was fruitful, I trust?"

"'Enterprise'? Who the hell says 'enterprise' anymore?"

"Or am I not supposed to know that you've successfully argued your case and gained our mutual acquaintance's full cooperation?"

"Well, you did wish me luck, so I figured..."

"That I might have said something on your behalf?"

"No. Actually, I was pretty sure that you'd beat me to it. He didn't look all that surprised to see me, now that I think about it."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure that you're one crazy sonuvabitch."

"That is far too simple a generalization for someone of your intelligence. Tell me who, exactly, do you think I am, Dreamwalker?"

"I really don't think you want me to answer that."

"Because you might be right. A frightening possibility, isn't it? I'd be delighted to tell you, but I'm afraid I must save that little revelation for another time."

"Thank God for small miracles."

"But I will confirm your suspicions on this: you and I are much alike. We both thrive on chaos, on battle, on the dynamics of survival. On life. For what is life, but a constant war?"

"Uhm... a recipe for some serious migraines?"

"Fighting a war in solitude is a bit... tedious. That is why our instincts drive us to locate loyal, powerful comrades."

"Ah... I get it. I should have known you had the poor schmuck in your pocket the whole time. So tell me, have I passed your little test?"

"And what would you say if I told you that you had?"

"I'd tell you to stick your intuition where the sun don't shine; I'll never serve you."

"I saved your life – your very existence – Duo Maxwell. You'll serve me until that debt is paid."

. . .

**Acting Director Une** resists the temptation to forget her resolve and buy a shuttle ticket to a space colony – _any _space colony. Only yesterday afternoon, she'd convinced herself to see this investigation through, to knock some heads together if need be. But now, in the silence of very early morning, in an office building that is void of voice and life, she wonders if her resolution is truly what she wishes for.

She imagines cracking this case wide open, finding Duo Maxwell and Chang Wufei, interrogating the stuffing out of them.

And after that?

She sighs and listens to the listless breath echo off of the four walls of her office and knows what will come next: yesterday, the day before yesterday, two days before, three, four, a hundred, ad infinitum: the future will be a mirror image of the past.

She tells herself that what she works for now is at a more crucial, more vital stage than it had been when she'd worked with Mr. Treize. She tells herself that she is still fighting that war. She tells herself that she is still reaching for Mr. Treize's vision of humanity with honor.

And she's told herself this so many times that the words have all the sincerity of a mass-produced greeting card.

Une leans back in her chair and finds her gaze drawn to the mysterious bullet hole in the wall behind her desk. She contemplates the mystery it encapsulates. Adrenalin tingles in her veins at the memory of those moments: of the impossibility of the NeoGlock, of Duo Maxwell's untraceable entrance and exit, of Duo Maxwell's existence, of the sound of that second voice.

It's a mystery. A _real_ mystery. One that, perhaps, may never be solved. Or, dare she think it, _shouldn't_ be solved. But she is weighted with the deaths of hundreds of people. How can she even think about turning her back on them? On justice? Dear God, Chang would have her head if he'd merely suspected the thoughts she'd been entertaining: quitting, giving up, letting go. Hah! Her job may be passionless, it may test the limits of her own humanity, sanity, and – she can't contemplate it without an accompanying shudder – professionalism, but it is necessary. Or is she ready to tell the families of those lost, that she'll be their champion for justice no longer?

If only there existed some deeper _meaning_ to it all. Some passion. Not the same cycle of death and retribution that has acquired shopping-list dispassion and ambivalence...

A soft knock on her door abruptly ends these self-absorbed musings. She dismisses these thoughts quickly and brutally. She does what she has always done: get on with it.

"Yes?"

"Lady Une..."

_That voice!_

Recognizing that soft tenor, she turns quickly, her heart beginning to race, her mind disbelieving.

Standing just this side of her office threshold, a tall, elegant man regards her with kind eyes, stealing her breath, claiming her soul, and whispers, "How I've missed you, my lady."

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

**_Witness the Phoenix_** by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Six -**

**"This... is not possible,"** Director Une states softly, confidently. "You died in battle."

The man who looks and sounds like Treize Kushrenada says, "Yes, you did witness the destruction of my mobile suit. And you are correct: from that moment on, I was dead. To you. To the world. And, most importantly, to history."

With basic logic once more reasserting itself over knee-jerk reactions, Une muses, "But, of course, you didn't. You survived. Mr. Treize..."

"My lady, please, sit down. There is something of great importance I have risked reappearing to discuss with you."

Where, once, she would have obeyed instantly and with breathless anticipation, Une cautiously leans one hip against her desk and waits.

With uncanny insight, he tells her, "I know that you are unhappy with this new peace. I know because I can see the absence of vitality and vibrancy in the face of my beloved lady. But you must know that this is not the end of our quest. This is not the distilment and domestication of our vision. There is more, my lady. There is purpose."

Une closes her eyes as that last word. A word that she has never been so ready to hear. "You have always known my weakness, Mr. Treize."

"No, my lady, not your weakness. Your strength." Treize approaches her desk and leans against it beside her. "The destruction of my mobile suit did not – could not – kill me. You see, there are some of us in this world with extraordinary abilities. And, unfortunately, when powerful people discover us, they seek to use us as weapons and shields. We may seem inhuman, but – I promise you – we are as vulnerable as anyone else."

Une allows a small, wry smile. "Your manner of speaking in riddles hasn't changed, I see."

Treize chuckles. "Perhaps not." He lifts a hand from the edge of the desk and gently captures Une's chin. "This is real, my lady. _I_ am real. _Un_death is real. You might ask me how it is possible, but I would not be able to answer that; this world is a far greater mystery than I can ever fully describe. Although my kind may seem to have a great knowledge of the universe, we cannot even answer the simplest question of all: how was all of it made?"

He gently caresses a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear. "We are just as lost as you. And we need _your_ help, my lady, if it pleases you to give it."

Une says nothing for a long moment. She considers the possibility that this is a trick, a trap, another manipulation. And, most assuredly, it is. Now, at this moment, she must decide how important that is to her.

She says, "You want me to drop the investigation on the Bedouin and the Zanoah Base. You want me to ensure that that data is unrecoverable." For those are the only inexplicable events which might result in the unfavorable exposure of these _extraordinary_ people, as Treize calls them.

He replies, "I am asking you to protect a few people who reacted out of self-defense when cornered by the ambitions and warmongering of others."

"You are asking me to overlook a crime."

"I am asking you to do your duty as an agent of peace to help a group of people who wish to live a quiet, peaceful life. I am asking you to give the gift of peace to them. I am asking you not to force them to fight for you... or against you."

"Because you believe I won't be able to win."

"Because I don't want to lose you to the ugliness of that conflict, my lady. I would wish for my own oblivion before I would see your loveliness corrupted by that thirst for power."

Une has no reply to that.

Treize stands. "I regret that I must take my leave now. My lady, it has been an exquisite treasure seeing you again. Although I cannot be with you, know that I am thinking of you always." With those words, Treize lifts her hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss across her skin.

Eyes burning with tears, she watches him stride toward the door. Just before he reaches for the doorknob, he turns and smiles at her one last time. The moment hangs between them for the eternity it takes to draw a single breath. All that had never been and all that may never be exists in that gaze. And Une wishes with all her heart that she had not been left outside this man's extraordinary world. Her chest aching with regret, she watches as he grasps the doorknob. And, strange as it may be, it appears that with every additional movement, his figure becomes more and more transparent until the door seems to stand open for a ghost and close on a breath of wind.

. . .

**"What** are we doing here, Yuy?"

"Finding a parking space," Wufei's passenger replies.

Wufei shakes his head, turns on the jeep's turn signal and glides into the visitor parking lot. "I know I don't have to tell you that there are stealthier ways of executing this mission."

Heero does not comment. He remains relaxed in his seat, scanning the building in the early morning light. The winter sun hasn't yet emerged completely from the far horizon. Although not the coldest month of the year, it is the darkest.

As bidden, Wufei pulls into a vacant parking space and turns off the engine. He doesn't say anything. His anger and fear have long since been pushed aside. For the moment, he'll cooperate. Later, however, is a different story entirely.

Wufei watches Heero Yuy out of the corner of his eye as the young man leans forward in his seat and gazes up at a square of lit office window above them. "Une's in her office," Heero states.

With no way of disputing that, nor the inclination to toss pointless accusations about, Wufei says drolly, "I suppose you'd like me to go in and make an appointment for you to see her?"

The nearest corner of Heero's mouth lifts. "Not quite."

He checks his watch and then pulls the black duffel bag off of the back seat and slides it out of sight. He holds his hand out for the car keys. Reluctantly, Wufei hands them over.

"Let's go," Heero says, opening the car door.

Grudgingly, Wufei complies. As their boots crunch through the frosty asphalt, Heero slides his hands into his jacket pocket.

"I'm not going to try to explain what it is I'm trying to do here," he tells Wufei. "I can't."

"Won't," Wufei corrects him bitterly.

"No," Heero replies, unperturbed, "can't. There are no words in any language I've ever known to explain it."

Wufei says nothing to that. He fights back a chill and tries not to think too hard about Heero's tone, but finds himself musing that it's weighted with barrenness. An odd thought to be thinking as he crunches his way across the Preventer HQ visitor parking lot.

"There is a conservation of things that people don't understand," Heero continues quietly. "An object at rest will remain at rest, that is true, but it is not productive. And humans never stay in one place for long. They devise goals and plans, they scheme and scrap amongst themselves."

Wufei can see the sidewalk just ahead. He can see the night guard standing just inside the glass doors, lifting what appears to be a cup of coffee to his lips. Soon the man will look up and see them approach. And even in the ghostly winter dawn light, he may recognize them. Wufei does not know what Heero's plan is, but he heartedly wishes the man would just get on with it.

"Humans forget about sacrifice. They hold everything too close to them. Packrats. Their behavior mirrors the rodents they believe themselves to be so far above."

Wufei keeps his eyes on the security guard.

"I think you understand about sacrifice, Chang. To attain something new, something old must be given up."

The paper cup of coffee begins to lower. The officer's face begins to turn toward the glass doors.

In an instant of insight, Wufei says, "You're sacrificing me, Yuy? Is that it?"

There is no response.

Wufei glances away from the doors and sees...

No one.

Heero has disappeared.

Wufei almost stumbles to a halt, but his surprise is not wholly genuine. He'd suspected something like this. Frowning, he continues his slow march up to the entrance. Heero had wanted a diversion, had he? And he'd strung Wufei along until it was too late to turn back. Even now, the security officer's lips are moving. Reporting a possible sighting of the missing Preventer Agent Chang Wufei.

For an instant, Wufei's resentment is so bitter it nearly incinerates his tongue. But no. Wufei knows he cannot avoid this place and his boss forever. One way or another, this situation is going to be sorted out. Even without the threat to Quatre's wellbeing, Wufei would have walked up these steps. But he doesn't have to like Yuy's methods of getting him here.

Wufei pushes open the door. Steamrolling over the guard's attempt to place Wufei in Preventer custody, the former agent says simply, "I'm here to speak to Acting Director Une and no one else."

. . .

**Preventer Agent Walker** stares at the string of unintelligible symbols that has become his life over the past two months. The data returning his glare on the computer screen is from the database owned and utilized by the Bedouin. It is the data Director Une has made clear she wants. It is the information his master has decided the Preventers Director must have. But it is the information Agent Walker has been unable to decrypt.

He doesn't look at the clock. What use is time to a being such has him? If Une removes him from this assignment, he will simply consult his master and determine whether his position in the Preventers still holds any further value.

Still, he'd like to succeed in at least _one_ of the tasks he's been given.

Walker leans back in his chair and stretches. A yawn of considerable intensity forces itself out of him. His jaw cracks. With a shake of his head, Walker abandons the computer screen and wanders toward the small employee break nook. The coffee is very, very black; it's probably been stewing for more than twelve hours. Walker picks up a paper cup and pours the dark sludge into it. The more disgusting it is, the faster it will wake him up.

For a moment, he lingers over the sink, thinking. Who had encrypted this information? Who would have had the skills, the time, and the motive to do it?

But it does not matter that Walker cannot solve this riddle. He's sure his master has a very short list of suspects in mind. Still, he wonders why this information is so important. Why must Une see this? What is in it? Which of his master's mysterious goals will this further?

Walker can speculate as much as he likes, but it does not matter. Decoding the data is what matters.

Cup in hand, Walker wanders back to his cubicle and slides back into his chair. He takes a sip of the vile beverage, grimaces, and looks up at his computer screen.

The coffee splashes onto the carpet and his pant legs. The cup rolls to a stop against his left shoe. He ignores it. Walker stares at the computer screen which is now completely blank. He reaches for his keyboard and types frantically. But moments later, it becomes clear that the encrypted data is gone. He accesses the Preventers database to retrieve the backup copy...

_File not found. Press Enter to search again..._

Walker stands and jogs to the data room. Perhaps there's been a malfunction with the database itself. He should be able to retrieve the files from the hard drive directly...

Walker slides his keycard through the lock and pushes the door open.

... and reload them onto his computer. He'll need to make more backup copies, of course, but that's easily done. Later he can wonder how this had happened. After all, Duo Maxwell, or another dreamwalker, is the only one capable of appearing and disappearing at will. It's possible that he would be capable of deleting the data on Walker's computer, but in physical form, even a dreamwalker is subject to the laws to physics. So Duo Maxwell may have been able, but Walker had only stepped away from his desk for a moment and a moment is not enough time for even someone as talented as Duo Maxwell to delete every file including his backup copies.

Now seated at the main computer, Walker enters his data request.

And is told that the files he's searching for do not exist.

The data from the Bedouin compound is gone.

His hands are shaking above the keyboard. The thought enters his mind to head over to forensics to collect the Bedouin computer hard drive itself, only he has the sneaking suspicion that it will not yield the information he seeks. He suspects that – if the hard disk is in fact still locked in the evidence room – it is completely blank.

And Agent Walker knows that most likely means one thing:

Asha has awakened at last.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

_**Witness the Phoenix**_ by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Seven -**

**"What is it** I'm not supposed to know about what killed the Bedouin and destroyed Zanoah?"

Wufei regards his former employer. While he is not exactly startled by her question – after all, Acting Director Une has always had an astute ability to read between the lines of any given situation – he had expected some sort of censure-soaked greeting to come first.

He arcs a brow at her over the lone table in the barren interrogation room. "No 'Agent Chang, finally you grace us with your presence'? I'm infinitesimally disappointed."

A brief, amused huff betrays Une's true reaction. Stone-faced, she counters, "That was certainly unintentional."

"Of course it was."

Une steps closer to the table but does not sit down. "Don't pretend you didn't hear my question, agent."

"I won't," Wufei promises. "I won't pretend that every other agent with Beta Security clearance and higher won't be able to hear it, either."

For a moment, Une says nothing. Finally, she draws a small mechanism from the pocket of her suit jacket and places it on the table. Wufei leans forward and examines the frequency jammer. It has been turned on. Whether or not it is functioning correctly and interfering with all electronic recordings within the room remains to be seen. But it is not for his own sake that he has given a warning.

"I'm touched that you harbor any concerns for me at all, Agent Chang."

Wufei returns the jammer to the tabletop and says, "Why wouldn't I? You're an able leader. I do not wish to see your forced resignation."

"High praise, indeed. However, I am still waiting for an answer to my question."

Wufei crosses his arms over his chest and allows his eyelids to drift down until his vision is almost completely obscured. Now, more than ever, he must trust his intuition. While his words may never be heard by anyone other than Une, it is still Une – a powerful woman – who will hear them.

So he waits.

And the words come.

"There wasn't a bullet, was there? From the attack yesterday."

She does not reply. But Wufei doesn't need her to. Quatre had been right about his abilities. He is a true medium. Wufei's mediations had been but a situation in which Wufei had decided to accept the knowledge and intuition that had come to him. Now, he opens himself to the truth that exists beyond himself and speaks it aloud.

He continues, "And while the identity of the assailant is unknown to the general public and the investigators, it is not unknown to you. You did not share this information because you knew no one would believe you. After all, according to your best forensics experts, Duo Maxwell is dead."

Wufei raises his head and opens his eyes. Une sits before him still stone-faced but he can hear her thoughts. "How did Duo Maxwell get inside your office with a loaded gun? I am not a liberty to tell you that. I will tell you only that he _can_. The Bedouin knew that he was capable of it. And the Agent in Charge at Zanoah – due to my own careless inquiries – had inferred it. The data that you want so badly to be decoded will reveal to anyone who is willing to pay for it and able to persuade one of your agents to sell it to them that there exists people who are weapons in and of themselves. I think Duo Maxwell has already shown you this; that bullet – despite its non-existence – would have killed you had it struck you."

Une does not comment. She watches Wufei but again her thoughts are not hidden from him. She finally summarizes, "And how do you know all of this Mr. Chang?"

Wufei feels a small smile pull at his lips, "You'll think I'm crazy if I tell you I'm psychic, so I'd better confess to being in league with Maxwell and privy to his state of mind and the details of his criminal activities. That is, breaking and entering and carrying an illegal firearm."

"It's convenient that you've brought that up, Mr. Chang: How could anyone have gotten into my office undetected with an illegal firearm? Despite your insistence that you aren't able to tell me how Maxwell did it, I'm sure you could give me a good guess."

Wufei's cooperative smile remains. "Ah, perhaps. After all, there must be a logical explanation."

"Is there? And what logic are you using?"

"One I'm sure you've already discovered for yourself, but are hesitant to use."

"Yes, of course," she mockingly concurs, "Duo Maxwell, having somehow killed the Bedouins in an act of self-defense, also destroys the Zanoah base for the same reason, surviving the explosion to threaten my life with a weapon that could not have gotten through our security, discharging a bullet that damaged property but does not exist. _That _logic?"

"Or very similar to it, ma'am."

"And just what am I supposed to do with this information, Chang? What do I tell the families of the agents who died in Zanoah? Men and women who had been following one person's – according to you – misguided orders?"

Wufei does not have an easy answer for her. "And the injustice perpetrated by many of the Bedouin and the Agent in Charge of Zanoah? What of that? What court in the world is going to understand the delicacy of this situation? Or, instead of seeing people who only want to live their lives in peace, will they see weapons to be used for their own gain? Surely, you can see that while persisting in this investigation, you will be undermining the very peace so many – including yourself – have sacrificed so much for? Surely, you can foresee the war this data would bring?"

Une leans abruptly back in her chair, as if winded.

Wufei says quietly, "Now you see the concern that precipitated yesterday morning's attack. You know that Duo Maxwell is not solely motivated by enlightened self-interest. That is not an aspect of his albeit highly varied character. Why would he go to such lengths to stop you from asking the same questions that I had?"

He waits for his words to draw out the only answer he knows she can give. But this time, he does not echo her thoughts even as they come to him:

_Maxwell has someone to protect._

Silence pulses in the interrogation room. And then Une speaks, "According to your theory, Maxwell was more interested in protecting a secret than actually attacking me. So why didn't he simply cut to the chase and ask me to keep silent?"

"Perhaps the situation did not allow him to do that. Perhaps he thought you'd never close the investigation just because he'd asked you to. Perhaps he was sending out a message."

"Speculation is not an adequate substitute for answers, Agent Chang."

Wufei tilts his head to the side and regards his boss. "Then why don't you seem disappointed, ma'am?"

She regards him for a long moment before finally admitting, "Perhaps it's because I want to believe it."

. . .

**Asha has awakened.**

Walker is momentarily frozen by this epiphany. He knows that he must go to his master, warn him, and prepare for the coming battle, but he is still in shock. It is too soon for Asha to have regained its essence. Too soon for the embodiment of destruction to have collected its memories and recalled its history. And its nemesis.

_Calm down,_ he tells himself. Surely, his master has already foreseen this.

_Which means he's waiting for me to assist him._

And since there is nothing to be done regarding the lost data and his failed assignment, Walker stands and leaves the database room, locking the door behind him.

. . .

**Not every child** born is human.

Asha knows this is a fact that very few can comprehend, let alone accept. The circumstances of its own most recent embodiment had been complicated and desperate. Despite the knowledge of how it had happened, Asha is incapable of describing it in any human tongue. And Asha knows them all. Even the ones that have been forgotten.

And so very much had been forgotten.

Asha sits on the roof of the Preventers headquarters building and considers the singular most important thing that – until the confrontation with Wufei in the garage of the safehouse – had been kept hidden. Until the moment when Heero Yuy's desire to cut off Wufei's exit had manifested itself in a Shift, the young man who had called himself Heero Yuy had not realized that his name could not be Heero Yuy... that he could not be human at all.

The dam had been broken. The knowledge had come. The memories. The history. The _knowing._ Finally, the reasons and motivations for this powerful need to find Duo Maxwell had infused him.

And now Asha is here, at the place of the Call. Maxwell had beckoned Heero Yuy here. And here Heero Yuy will wait. The time is near for Asha, the Essence of Destruction, to fulfill its duties.

. . .

**In the elevator,** Walker pauses a moment to think. Should he descend to the parking garage and drive to his master's home? No. Not yet. First he must confirm his master's whereabouts.

Walker pulls a cellular phone from his jacket pocket and dials a familiar number.

The telephone in his master's quarters begins to ring.

The elevator moves.

Walker frowns briefly at the control panel. He should have stopped the lift. Now he'll have to figure out a way to have the conversation he must with another person standing beside him in a quiet, enclosed space. This is highly inconvenient.

The telephone rings a second time.

Walker waits.

The elevator slows... stops.

The telephone rings a third time.

The doors open.

And Walker gasps at the sight of the young man before him. He reaches for his powers, calling forth the fire that has always burned deep within him—

But finds himself eclipsed, weightless, in searing, glowing white perfection. A voice an... angel calls to him and he strains to be nearer to that heavenly being. He can feel the promise of its blessing. With only a touch he will know everything, he will transcend, he will become...

In the elevator, a young man with blonde hair carefully removes a cellular phone from a limp hand. Over the open connection, it rings a fourth time and then the young man disconnects the call.

Behind him, a second figure moves into the lift. Without turning around, the blond man says, "The roof."

His companion presses the corresponding button and the doors whisper closed.

. . .

**It is time.**

"Asha, my old friend, I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten all about me."

Asha, the former Gundam pilot known as Heero Yuy, turns toward the familiar voice and states, "I've remembered."

The being opposite him looks like a man, had lived as a man, and had died as a man. But it is all merely an illusion. The smile is as bright and confident as Asha recalls. Not so much as a wrinkle or a grey hair has been added in the twenty years that have passed since his last speech encouraging peace and cooperation between the colonies and Earth, since this man's public assassination. He appears tall, virile, confident. It is a body that was tailored to charm and manipulate mortals with ease. But his eyes are cold.

"Have you remembered indeed? The last time we encountered one another, I seem to recall being the target of that sniper you recruited to shoot me in broad daylight. That was most bothersome. How was I supposed to implement the greatest war in human history when the body those idiotic colonial administrators trusted lay with a hole in its head on the ground? I was forced to delay my plans. An inconvenience I expect to be reimbursed for, Asha."

"You'll be disappointed again," Asha predicts darkly.

"Asha, have you been interfering with my warmongering?"

"I don't think you really need me to answer that."

The first Heero Yuy, the supposed pacifist leader of the colonies, does not seem surprised by the words of the young man opposite him. His smile is patronizing. "Must we continue this incessant contest of will? You know I have had more time to prepare myself than you, to gather the forces of creation and chaos to me. You cannot win this battle. I'll merely scatter your essence amongst a thousand bodies. This time, it will take you longer than a mere two decades to reform your being."

"You are my nemesis, Druj. Negotiations are irrelevant. Opposing you is the reason for my existence in this dimension." The young man who had – ten years ago – accepted the name Heero Yuy, and who now fully comprehends the meaning of those syllables, grins icily at his opponent. "If you refuse to concede, then prepare yourself for battle."

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Witness the Phoenix**_ by The Manwell

Summary: As Wufei tries to maintain his comrades' solidarity, he cannot possibly imagine that the big picture is much, much bigger than he'd imagined.

Pairings: 1+2+3 & 5+4

Warnings: Language, Angst, Sensuality, Shounen-ai PG-13

Notes: This story is the final installment in a 4-part series called The Possession Arc.

. . .

**- Eight -**

**By the time **Quatre is shouldering open the door to the roof of Preventer Headquarters, Heero's challenge is an echo in the charged air:

_"If you refuse to concede, then prepare yourself for battle."_

Quatre's heart seems to stutter in shock as he takes in the desolate battlefield across which his once-upon-a-time comrade faces a man who history has believed to be dead since before Quatre had been born... the _real_ Heero Yuy.

Quatre closes his eyes, utilizing his empathic senses to classify the sentient beings in his midst. He "sees" Trowa, a brightly burning flame of purpose beside him in the shadows of the stairwell. And when he turns to the beings on the roof, his breath catches in his throat. For here are no mere mortals. No, if what his senses are telling him is true, then, the beings braced for confrontation are in fact...

"Angels," Quatre breathes in the darkness. On his shoulder, Trowa's grasp tightens.

He focuses completely on Trowa's former bondmate, but realizes immediately that this is not the youth he remembers. Gone is the anger, the self-reproach, the resentment. In place, Quatre senses a being that is focused on a singular purpose: the destruction of its enemy. Its intent is a culmination of the bitterest cold – a motionless chill unlike anything Quatre has ever witnessed. And when Quatre turns to the opponent, he senses a roiling, frothing chaos of heat and existence. Finally, Quatre understands:

The angel of peace and destruction will make war against the angel of chaos and creation.

Quatre would have gasped had the situation not been so dire. Later, he will recall the teachings of his father's religious confidant. In the aftermath of this fight, Quatre will recall reading ancient and obscure texts in the monk's private library describing the source of all good and evil on Earth as arising from the conflict between Asha and Druj, the angels of peace and war, the agents of destruction and creation.

The hand grasping his shoulder tightens and Quatre realizes he's leaning too far beyond the stairwell door. Although Trowa says nothing, Quatre understands that in this fight, they must not interfere.

And then light erupts from the former Heero Yuy of the colonies – Druj. Light that burns the eyes and reaches through skin to illuminate mortal organs with painful clarity. And from that light leaps beasts of all sizes and shapes: undulating mythical monsters that breathe fire; muscled and furred cats with wicked claws and teeth and feathered wings; steel-beaked gryphons with fiery eyes; and nearly a dozen more whose dark, terrifying shapes humanity has only glimpsed in the depths of their darkest night terrors.

With a word from the angel of chaos, they charge toward their prey. But the angel of peace is not without its own defense. Asha uses no words, just a single gesture, as if he is striking a hammer against the surface of the building's roof. The sun-baked, cracked asphalt and concrete ripple like waves on the surface of a pond. Concentric circles expand beyond the force which had created them. And then the matter surrounding Asha shatters, shifts. Quatre realizes it's a thirteenth-storey earthquake.

But this has not stopped the beasts. They are almost upon Asha, who closes his eyes and clasps his hands with an ear-splitting crack. Quatre gasps as the air suddenly shifts, spinning violently towards Asha, as if someone had removed every air molecule surrounding the angel. He watches as a tornado tears the torn asphalt, concrete, metal, and brick from the building and gathers it all into the storm and enclosing the creatures in the roaring funnel. Although Quatre cannot hear their screams, he knows that they will not be released until every last one of them has been completely destroyed.

Asha does not wait to evaluate the efficacy of the storm. Asha, who but for its icy ferocity, would have looked exactly like the Heero Yuy that Quatre has known for years, launches toward his nemesis. His form shivers, shifts, moves faster than Quatre can perceive. Druj counters. And this time, Quatre can see the weapons they each wield.

With each shift of its form, Asha seems to gather and throw a spear-shaped object. It takes Quatre a moment to realize that the spears are in fact debris from the destruction of the roof. And just as quickly, Quatre realizes that Druj deflects each missile with practiced motions of two exquisitely glowing swords.

Feeling equally spellbound and helpless, Quatre watches as the angels circle each other. Their forms disappear and then instantaneously reappear in different locations long enough for the weapons of each to strike and clash against the other's.

And then, just when Quatre thinks that this battle cannot go on forever with each so equally matched, Asha's form wavers, seeming to shimmer in the air, instantly summoning multiple crude lances aimed at Druj.

And then unthinkable happens.

Duo appears between them.

Quatre stares even as Trowa's hand clenches painfully in his shoulder and they watch as a rainstorm of projectiles coalesces in the air and strikes the barrier that stands before their target.

"No!" Trowa shouts, the air heating up dangerously around them. Quatre gasps and watches Duo slump to the rubble, makeshift spears lodged in his body.

Automatically, Quatre reaches out to feed Duo energy, but he finds nothing that can receive his offering: Duo Maxwell's heart is still.

"Save him!" Trowa yells into Quatre's ear over the ruckus of the still-spinning storm.

But Quatre cannot. He turns away from Duo's empty and lifeless gaze and finds himself witnessing a smugly satisfied smile on Druj's handsome face. Opposite him, Asha no longer seems to be there. In its place is the young former Gundam pilot, Heero Yuy, who looks heartbroken and enraged, one hand clutching a bloody arm where Druj's blade must have struck a glancing blow.

Furious with grief, Quatre reaches out for the energy of an angel. Druj's eyes widen as Quatre unleashes the beast within him and sets it on its prey. The power is overwhelming, burning, infinite, but Quatre does not relent. Opposite the no-longer-gloating Angel of Chaos, a dark scowl of purpose pulls Heero Yuy's expression. The hand of his bloodied arm fists.

And the wind changes direction. It swirls, spinning toward Druj, pushing him toward the edge of the building. And over the howl of the wind, Quatre can hear the angel – demon? – laugh.

"You think a _storm_ will defeat me, Asha? _Me!?_ Your essence is still as scrambled and useless as the instant I encased you in that mortal's body!" Druj's laughter takes on an edge of victory.

But something catches Quatre's attention: drops of blood – Heero's blood – being pushed up the blade of the sword by the wind... up, past the hilt, over the glowing metal, and then a single drop manages to touch Druj's skin.

The embodiment of chaos's laughter becomes a shriek of pain and shock and then an explosion rents the air, flinging Quatre into darkness.

. . .

**"What happened here?"**

Wufei looks out over the ruined top floor of Preventers HQ and, it seems to Une, that he merely breathes in the essence of the catastrophe. "A battle," he tells her.

The Acting Director stares at him for a long moment. "Impossible," she breathes. But even as she protests, she wonders...

Wufei nods. "It does seem to be," he agrees.

Not appreciating his unhelpful accord, she glares at him. An easy task given that the sirens of the emergency vehicles and the smoky air have given her a headache of considerable size. She snaps, "A battle between whom, Agent Chang?"

Wufei smiles ruefully. "A couple of dead men, Director. Just a couple of dead men." He returns his gaze to her, his manner changing abruptly. Standing before her now is a young professional. Agent Chang says, "I doubt forensics will find much that will be able to explain this. I'm afraid it will remain another unsolved mystery, ma'am."

"Indeed?" she wonders aloud. "That brings us back to your situation, then, Agent Chang. Whatever shall I do with you?"

Without flinching, Wufei Chang replies, "Whatever justice dictates, ma'am."

Acting Director Une stares intently at the young man in her employ and agrees, "Indeed, Agent Chang. Indeed."

. . .

**The news report** does not give many details regarding the explosion. With the exception of the topmost floor, the building is still in tact and structurally sound. One person had been killed. The damage to the building has been estimated to cost a lot. The cause is, as yet, unknown.

The driver of the shiny, silver sports car taps his fingertips against the steering wheel and lets out a sigh. This is taking longer than he'd expected.

Waiting has never been his forte, but he quells his impatience. He listens to the sounds of engines idling, roaring, grumbling in the distance. He listens and he thinks of space travel. He wonders about space itself and the places beyond it. He wonders about the other dimensions. He wonders about their fate.

And then the sound of footsteps draws near and, somehow, he knows exactly who it is. He looks across the interior of the sports car and grins as a familiar young man leans down and regards him through the open passenger window.

"Nice car."

The driver laughs. "Yeah, I kinda thought you'd like it."

The door opens and Wufei Chang slides into the passenger seat. He closes the door but, with the window down, the noise from the colony spaceport is unhushed. "It's good to see you again," Wufei says. "It's been a while."

"Oh man, you can say that again!" The driver starts the engine and pulls out into the late evening rush hour traffic.

"Although I'm patently glad you're not talking to me while _I'm_ driving this time."

The driver winces. "Er, yeah. Sorry 'bout that, Wu-man. But I see you're all in one piece, so whatever Q did to you for that, it wasn't permanent."

"Lucky for you," Wufei acknowledges darkly. "I take retribution very seriously, Maxwell."

"Don't I know it!"

"So, are you going to tell me what happened? That is why you came to pick me up isn't it?"

"Sorta." Duo Maxwell glances in the rear-view mirror and changes lanes. "I guess I should back up to when you and Q helped me dissolve the Oath, eh?"

"A good place to start," Wufei mildly agrees.

"Well, yeah, I was... drifting, I guess. It's hard to describe. But then something just... I dunno, _collected_ me, I guess, and I found myself in the service of this self-appointed bad ass who has this serious kink for war and chaos and crap like that. Oh, and did I mention that he called himself Heero Yuy?"

Wufei stares at him.

"Yeah," Duo continues to Wufei's stunned silence. "But he didn't look like our buddy. Oh, no, this guy's the _original_ Heero Yuy. Y'know... pacifist leader of the colonies and all that shit? The _dead_ guy?"

Wufei chokes.

"That's what I thought, too," Duo agrees, eyes still on the snarl of traffic. "Coulda wet myself, actually, 'cept I'm, y'know..."

"I know," Wufei murmurs before Duo is forced to enunciate his inhuman nature.

"Turns out he's some kinda god of chaos or somethin' and I coulda died laughin'..." Duo shakes his head. "I thought about contacting you guys, I really did, but I was gettin' some seriously weird vibes, so I held off. And good thing I did, too. 'Cause it turns out this Heero Yuy _rescued_ me so he could use me to get to, er, _our_ Heero Yuy. And if I'd spoken to you, that woulda been it. Bang. The end."

Duo sighs. "So, when I heard that Une was askin' a lot of dangerous questions, I paid her a visit. I knew you guys would figure it out. And, most importantly, I knew that Heero'd come when he was ready. Which was sooner than I'd thought, actually."

"So, what happened?"

Duo taps his fingertips against the steering wheel again while they're waiting for the traffic to start crawling forward. "From what I gather, Heero forced you to drive him to Preventer HQ while he hacked the database to figure out how much evidence they actually had on us. It turns out that Druj – the chaos bad ass dead Yuy dude? – he wanted the Preventers to think that Heero, Trowa and I had all survived Zanoah. He wanted us to be arrested or forced to defend ourselves in such a way that we revealed what we are to the world and started another war. But one of the Zanoah security recorders got past his man, so everyone saw us go in and – presumably – die. So Druj told his man on the inside to decode the Bedouin's hard drive so the Preventers would at least know about Q and me. But Heero beat him to it. Erased the data."

"Who's the inside man?" Wufei asks, thinking of contacting Une.

"Walker," Duo replies. "I remember hearing about him during the war. Apparently died in Zechs' place. Crashed right into an enemy fortification in a mobile suit. Blew the whole place up."

"But, if he –"

"He was a djinn, just like Tro."

"Ah."

"Yeah. But Q took him out. Don't worry about it, man."

"Hm."

"So, where was I?"

"Druj's master plan to reveal us to the world and start another war was foiled when Heero showed up at Preventer Headquarters."

"Oh, yeah! So, yeah. Bitchin' fight you missed on the roof, by the way. Heero, er, Asha, I mean, but I still call 'em Heero... Anyway, Heero's got the power to destroy, right? And Druj's got the power to create, so Druj was throwing all kinds wicked shit at Heero and Heero just about destroys the building and starts a tornado defending himself. Then it's down to the two of them. They both did this weird shift thing, they just sort of disappear and then reappear someplace else –"

"I'm familiar with the phenomenon."

"Oh, re~ally? I'll have to ask you about that sometime."

"The fight?" Wufei prompts.

"Well, see, I had this seriously pain-in-the-ass life debt to Druj for fishing my essence out of infinity or whatever, so, when Heero went in for the killing blow I, well I – "

"Got in the way," Wufei finishes.

"Hey, who's tellin' the story, here?"

"My apologies. Please continue."

"Huh. That's better... Well, OK, so I died. Tro just about incinerated the building, Q sucked the life – well, some of the life – outta Druj and then Heero changed the direction of the wind and blew some of his own blood up Druj's sword until it touched Druj's skin and then –" Duo snaps his finger. "Gone."

"Gone?" Wufei echoes. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"Well, Heero's the essence of destruction, right? And Druj's the essence of creation..." Duo grins at Wufei's impatient expression. "They can't touch each other. It'd neutralize 'em both."

"One drop of Heero's blood destroyed Druj?"

"Well, no, but screwed him up pretty good. Heero's thinkin' he won't be back for about a century."

"Well," Wufei allows. "I suppose that's something. And you died defended Druj so your life debt is paid, I take it?"

Duo nods happily. "That pretty much covers it."

"Except how the four of you got out of there undetected," Wufei reminds him.

"Oh, yeah. That was my contribution. That's the great thing about being a dreamwalker; I don't actually have to have a _live_ body, if you get what I'm sayin'."

Wufei arcs a brow. "So you just rose from the dead and...?"

"Threw Quat over my shoulder and off we went."

Wufei chuckles at the mental image that evokes.

"Y'know, you seem awfully chipper for a guy who's just spent a solid month being interrogated by the Preventers and two weeks in an interplanetary tin can..."

"I suppose I do."

"So, what's goin' on with that, man? What's the verdict from Une?"

Wufei sends Duo Maxwell a smug smile. "I'm a consultant."

"Ah ha... So, you'll have some free time now, yeah?"

Something in Duo's tone pulls a suspicious look from his passenger. "Possibly" is the guarded reply.

"Enough time to form a crime-fighting team, take on the cesspit of humanity every night, defenders of the colony?"

"Dear Ancestors, who let you start reading comic books again?"

Duo laughs. "Ha! That's just about word-for-word what Heero said."

"If you haven't convinced Heero to go along with you, what makes you think I'm anymore agreeable?"

"Well, you do seem to be in a good mood..."

"'Good' does not equate to 'stupid', Maxwell."

"Yeah, well, I guy can hope..."

"If we're not going to create a secret yet elite crime-fighting unit, then what _is_ the plan?"

"Well, Trowa suggested starting up our old security system evaluation business again, but..."

"Heero would never agree to that after what happened last time."

"Very true," Duo agrees. "Besides, Quatre had a better idea..."

Wufei snorts out a short, undignified laugh. "He usually does."

Duo chuckles.

Wufei waits. And then: "Well? What is it?"

Duo grins and shakes his head. "I'm gonna let him sell you on it himself."

"Oh, joy," Wufei mockingly enthuses.

"Yeah, I know you'll put up a good fight, but you know the Winner brat always gets his way."

"Not in everything," Wufei replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

Duo sends him a speculative glance. "Yeah, I guess he never did get you into bed, did he?"

Wufei scowls.

"Well, be warned – you've been placed on The Agenda."

Wufei rolls his eyes. "When you say it like that, Doomsday sounds more inviting."

Duo laughs. "God knows how you tolerated Heero and Trowa while I was gone. They couldn't have been as obnoxious as Q-ball's been..."

"So how did you convince Heero and Trowa that you could be let out long enough to act as my chauffer?"

"Um, well..."

Wufei sighs and lowers his forehead into his upraised palm. "You didn't actually tell them you were going to pick me up." He doesn't appear to even bother to make it a question.

"Heh-heh. Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you guessed. I mean, you _are_ psychic –"

"It doesn't take a psychic to know when you've done something asinine, Maxwell."

"Ah, there's that ol' snark. I was wondering how it would take you to start growling at me again."

Wufei consults his wrist watch. "And a new record has been achieved. Surely, twenty-three minutes and twenty-two seconds is the longest time thus far."

"I'll trust your judgment on that one," Duo says, turning the wheel clockwise sharply and pulling into an unremarkable double-car garage. "We're here." Duo flashes a brilliant grin at Wufei and tosses him the keys. "Hope ya like the car. If you leave now you might be able to make the flight to L3..."

Wufei stares flatly at Duo and pockets the keys.

"Ah, OK, then. Just, y'know, _Agenda_," Duo needlessly reminds him. "Good luck, man."

And then Duo Maxwell disappears. Wufei shakes his head and climbs out of his new shiny sports car. He's pleased to note that it's the exact some color and model as the one Trowa had destroyed. Wufei reaches out and runs a hand over the hood.

"I'm jealous already."

Wufei smiles. "Well, Winner, what are you dithering around for? Get over here and take my attention off of my new car."

Quatre growls. "Gladly."

Wufei finds himself turned and leaning against the still-warm hood with a warm solid weight pressing against him. He enjoys a brief instant of chaotic blond hair, a sexy grin, and a fierce, predatory gaze before a pink tongue licks delicately – hotly – across his lips and pulls him into a kiss. Wufei's eyes drift closed and his arms wrap around the empath in his arms.

For the duration of a dream, Wufei allows Quatre to conquer his mouth. But then, with a sinuous twist of his hips, reverses their positions and pins Quatre against the passenger side door.

"I have," Wufei murmurs, interrupting himself to dive back into that sinful mouth, "received intelligence," and another long taste, "that I've been placed," a brief foray to reacquaint himself with his would-be lover's taste, "on a certain agenda without," and yet another conquest of that warm, wet cavern, "the consideration of one fact in particular."

"And, what would that be?" Quatre whispers, his hands sliding beneath Wufei's long-sleeved T-shirt.

Wufei smiles. "My car hasn't been... christened yet, has it?"

Quatre laughs as Wufei gently pushes him back a step, opens the passenger side door, pulls the seat forward, and motions into the dim recesses of the leather interior. "After you."

. . .

**The Acting Director** of the United Earth Sphere Alliance Preventer Head Quarters Division has a new opinion on Mondays. Once, she had considered the weekend to be a too-short respite from the trials and tribulations the work week brings. But now, she knows differently. Now, each Monday is a new beginning, a new opportunity to rejoin the mysterious world that she protects with her silence and her devotion. Now, each Monday brings with it new determination, new beauty, and the memory of a man whose ideals she embraces whole heartedly.

Une stands in her temporary office and regards the distant horizon. Soon, it will be dawn. A new day. A new sun. She smiles as she lazily twirls an unremarkable postcard between her fingers. The soft breeze it generates kisses her gently on the cheek and warms her. She glances down at the piece of correspondence she holds in her hand and reads the tasteful advertisement for a new jewelry store that specializes in wedding a commitment ceremony pieces. The store, in and of itself, is not unusual. Nor is the design and lettering on the postcard. And if anyone had noticed the return address in the course of delivering it to her, they had not mentioned it. For, really, why would Acting Director Une be interested in a small specialty jewelry store on a colony that's a two-week shuttle ride away?

But that is for Une, and Une alone, to know.

She turns and places the postcard on her desk, atop the mountain of files and paperwork she'll have to get through today and turns back to the window. The first glimmering line of light is just beginning to pour across the rim of the distant mountains. She watches as the light fills the sky and the burning sphere rises, newly hatched and emerging from its shell. Une draws a deep breath and allows the light to fill her, warm her, shore her up.

It is, once again, Monday morning. Only, this time, Une is not resigned.

She is reborn.

**The End**

Author's Notes: So, yes, this is the end. Heero, Duo, Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei have started a jewelry store together. Duo and Quatre will assist the customers who will be nervous, excited, happy, in love, and so forth; their emotions will feed Quatre's inner demon. Trowa will work with the metal, utilizing his djinn abilities at a safe rate. Heero could easily work with stones, "destroying" bits of them to create a well-cut gem. And Wufei? Well, I imagine he'd enjoy haggling for raw materials and researching suppliers.

Anyway, I'm sure some of you have questions, like what will happen 100 years from now, when Druj returns? Well, Asha will fight him again, of course. Duo will quite possibly be there to help him since there's no "natural" lifespan for a dreamwalker. Trowa, if he develops a healthy approach to dealing with his emotions, is expected to life a full life as well, although djinn are not known for their longevity. Quatre, as an empath, will be able to supplement his own energies, extending his life. That leaves Wufei, just a normal mortal (or, more normal, at any rate). But with Quatre around and willing to share, no doubt Trowa and Wufei won't have to worry about leaving their friends to face Druj's return without them.

And what about the relationships? Well, you've seen that Wufei and Quatre have gotten a start on theirs, finally. And hopefully, you inferred that Heero and Trowa have picked up where they left off with Duo.

And what about Une – is she really going to let sleeping dogs lie? Yes. Finally, she has something that is more meaningful than the daily grind to look forward to. She has been given an extraordinary secret to protect and she cherishes it, even if no one will ever know or acknowledge her for it.

What about justice for the people that were killed? The Bedouin? The agents at Zanoah? Well, this, I think, is the most important thing I have to say – the world must move on. Grieve, learn from the mistakes that the power-hungry have made, and move on. That is what Une hopes the world will finally be able to do now.

Why didn't Heero just come out and tell Wufei what was really going on? What was with the Gestapo crap? Well, let's face it, Heero can be a real shit when he wants something. And what he needed was to get Wufei (and Une) out of the line of fire. He'd also been counting on Trowa to get Quatre to Preventers HQ (by an alternate route) so that Quatre could surprise Druj by draining some of his power. So, it all worked out, in the end.

And, finally, is Duo really going to start a crime-fighting superhero gang with the others? Ah, hm. Well, think about it this way: can you really see Duo just giving up on something he _really_ wants? Yeah, me either. Although he might encounter a bit of resistance when it comes to introducing the new set of "costumes." Heh-heh.


End file.
